Clocks and Rhymes
by thewinchestersangel
Summary: A potion's side effects has Draco unable to speak anything but the truth. And rhyme. Draco's afraid he'll spill it to Harry that he loves him. Harry thinks Draco's being adorable.


Eyes shouldn't be that beautiful.

It seemed unlawful, Draco thought to himself, that eyes should be able to mesmerize you so easily. But, there was Harry. And ever since he lost those damned glasses of his (Goddess bless Neville for breaking those horrid things) Draco had found himself lost in those gorgeous emerald eyes at least…fourteen times, he believed, since last week. Not that he was counting or anything.

There were times, though, where that proved to be a problem. Now, for instance, in Potions class. He seemed to have been too lost admiring the jade orbs from afar, that he couldn't quite remember if Uncle Sev had told them to put the dragon talons in first or the newt's eye. Or maybe it was the Argonic beetles…

Um….Eenie meanie minie moe, catch a tiger by its toe…

Great. Now that stupid Muggle song would be in his head all day.

Picking up the newt's eye, which was what his finger had landed on in the end of that nonsensical song, he scrunched his eyes closed and hesitantly put it over his cauldron, dropping it slowly and hoping it wouldn't—

Damn it!

Draco found himself covered in what looked like…what were those? They appeared to be Muggle. Were those…numbers on them?

"Um, Professor Snape? Why is Malfoy covered in clocks?" Draco turned to hear Granger say.

'Clocks'? Is that what they called those peculiar things?

"They appear to be tattooed into my skin," Draco noted amusedly as he found his usually pale and flawless skin to be covered in what seemed to be pictures of these 'clocks'.

Looking up, Draco met eyes with his godfather. "Sev'rus, I do believe I should see Madam Pomfrey," he turned slightly, now facing the boy he'd been drooling over for weeks (okay, maybe years) and smirked, "Would you like to escort me, Potter?"

Harry, it seemed, had been shocked speechless, for all he did was gape silently. Snape sighed, "Go on to Madame Pomfrey. You go with him, Potter." He hoped that finally today his godson would get up the nerve to tell the Boy Who Wouldn't Die his true feelings. It only took so many nights of Draco rattling on about toned bodies and green eyes before Snape would go insane. He turned back towards the front of the class before Potter could object, dismissing them openly. Once the two students left the classroom, Draco smoothly and Harry not so much, the class seemed to finally snap out of whatever daze they had been in. With a roll of his eyes and a flick of the professor's wrist the murmurs and exclamations of the students fell to a silence.

"Read chapter three in your textbooks today," Severus demanded of the class, before leaning back in his chair and enjoying the quietness only a Silencio could bring.

Meanwhile, Harry and Draco were lounging in the hospital wing. Well, more specifically, Draco was, admiring the pretty design that now covered his skin. Harry was standing beside the bed Draco had lay in, looking awkward.

"You can sit down," Draco noted amusedly, "I don't bite."

Harry eyed Malfoy warily, as if he seriously doubted that statement, but took a seat anyway. It wasn't long before Madam Pomfrey herself made an appearance, seemingly much too interested in the array of clocks that roofed pale skin.

"Nothing a Quick Tattoo Removal potion won't handle," she finally exclaimed, opening a small drawer beside the bed and pulling out a clear container with a solid blue liquid.

Draco took the potion from her, gulping it down, before subconsciously noting the taste was quite pleasant. Like Brazilian silk, almost.

Immediately when the last drip fell down Draco's throat, the clocks disappeared, leaving his skin perfect once again. Madame Pomfrey smiled satisfactorily, smug that she once again healed a patient- a feeling that would never fade no matter how long you were to become a Healer. "Rest, Malfoy. I'll be back shortly," she smiled, a small upturn of lips, before turning around and leaving the room and two boys to themselves.

Harry warily eyed the blonde boy who was still staring peculiarly at his skin (which Harry had to admit was beautiful and he wanted to touch it oh so very badly).

"Um, Malfoy? Are you okay?" Harry finally asked when the silence, although not awkward, became too uncomfortable for his liking.

"I admit, it hasn't been my finest day. It's as if nothing ever goes my way," Draco sighed.

Harry watched as the beautiful (he had already admitted it once, no need to deny his thoughts anymore) boy in front of him reached into his robe pocket, as though looking for something. Draco then turned to him with confused eyes.

"The clocks are gone; tattoo removal never fails. My skin has returned to being both flawless and pale. But have you seen where my money went? I know I had more- two sickles is all I've spent," Draco searched his pockets again, aware of the wide (gorgeous, had he mentioned that yet?) eyes looking at him.

"Huh?" Draco took that moment to note how adorably inarticulate Harry was when confused.

"I had thirteen sickles before we both came here. But now the money seems to have disappeared," Draco explained with a tilt of his head.

"Um Malfoy," Harry said awkwardly, "Do you realize you are rhyming?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter, that would be a waste of my time. It'd be excruciating to have to think up each and every rhyme."

It was after he said this that Draco's eyes widened in dawning horror. It seemed to be that what the black haired boy had said was true.

It was that at (perfectly timed, I must admit) moment that Madame Pomfrey came back in, chuckling at the two boys' confusion. Malfoy, not wanting to speak in fear of his words coming out in a jumbled rhyme, just lifted an eyebrow.

"It's a little side effect," the Healer said, albeit a little too pleasantly, "Rhyming truths. It's labeled on the bottle of every Quick Tattoo Removal bottle there is."

Draco let that sink in. "Telling the truth is something I must do? Everything I say must be true?"

All eyes (well, okay, it was just Potter and Pomfrey in the room) turned to Draco, who still looked offset at his inability to normal sentences. The Healer nodded, immensely amused. Harry just found the expression on Malfoy's face (confused and pouty, with his nose scrunched a little) absolutely adorable.

"Well than, Harry, I think you should go. I don't want you learning something you shouldn't know," Draco looked away from Harry. _Like how I love you._

Of course that thought didn't leave the safe capacity of Draco's mind. Yes, it was on the tip of his tongue, and Draco desperately wanted to say it, but he knew it wouldn't be the right time nor place (especially considering Harry might possibly despise him).

Harry flushed, a little upset at being asked to leave, "Do you really want me to go?" He had thought Malfoy and him were getting along rather fine.

"Of course not, having you around is merry. But you knowing my secrets can be quite scary." Malfoy blushed as the truth was blurted from his unforgiving mouth.

Harry smiled, before he found it appropriate to mention, "You called me Harry. Before, when you were telling me to leave."

Draco felt a slight pink tinge rise up his face again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend. I thought that you were possibly my friend." He tried to say this with as much dignity as he possibly could, holding his head high and his eyes boring into Harry's own. Which widened, as well, when it finally clicked to Harry what Draco had said (who had taken the time to now leer at Harry's Quidditch body).

"I'd like it if we were," he quietly admitted.

A smile blossomed on Malfoy's face (a rare, genuine one), "Yeah, me too," he took Harry's hand in his as another rhyme was forced out of his throat, "Imagine if our friends knew." And they both laughed at the highly amusing idea of Blaise and Pansy with (and enjoying) the company of Ron and Hermione (as well as vice versa).

Draco felt his face warm, knowing it was probably light pink from embarrassment. The color of those pretty dahlias in his mother's garden, maybe, those were quite beautiful. "Harry, I've kind of wanted this for a long time," Draco admitted, clenching the hand in his and reveling in the feel of it, "I guess to admit it, it took a potion and a rhyme."

Harry chuckled, "I'm almost immensely glad that your potion blew up. It's nice being friends. You know, even if it only has been five minutes."

Draco nodded, before blushing (that beautiful dahlia color again!) and whispering softly, "We may have just become friends, but we've known each other forever."

Harry noted it wasn't a rhyme and wondered for a moment if the potion was wearing off.

"So what if I said I wanted us to be together?" Ah, there it was.

Draco stared up at Harry with wide, earnest (so silver they could melt your heart) eyes. Harry found himself staring at Draco wide eyed, as well. He wasn't exactly sure what to say (except yes, yes, yes I do, too).

Lucky for him, Draco took it upon himself to keep on talking, "Look, Harry, you're stubborn with a hero complex, and you have no clue. But, despite all of that I still…"

Harry held his breath.

"I still love you."

And Harry was flying (literally). Draco found himself enthralled with the floating (so tan, so fit, and so bloody gorgeous) boy in front of him.

"Potter, look, I just confessed. Is that a no or is that a yes?"

Harry's bright grin seemed to the answer, as well as his reply of, "Well, Draco, if we're going out now, shouldn't you start calling me Harry _all_ the time and not just every once in a while? I don't think my boyfriend should call me Potter. Unless, you know, he rhymes it with 'hotter'," Harry gave a lewd wink.

Draco beamed as Harry slowly floated down and landed back beside him.

Harry leaned in, entranced by the silver eyes watching him, until their faces were centimeters apart. "Harry, kiss me," was whispered against his lips.

And slowly, their lips met.

What followed was recounted as 'oh my god it was the best kiss I have ever had and, I swear, there were real life fireworks!'

(There actually had been real live fireworks. Madame Pomfrey just couldn't resist.)

But it wasn't world-changing kisses that mattered to them in the end. It was just Draco and Harry, two boys in love.

"Only one question and I'll leave you be. Just how long will this potion keep affecting me?"


End file.
